(Luke 15.1-3, 11-32) (Lent 4)
31 March 2019 – © Neil Millar
In the Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg, Russia, there’s a famous painting by Rembrandt called ‘The Return of the Prodigal Son’. Of all the paintings I’d like to see, this one is top of the list. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to see it ‘live’ but if I do, I imagine I’ll be affected (as so many have) by Rembrandt’s depiction of the father leaning over his son’s bent head, his aged face shining, his hands resting tenderly on the young man’s shoulder. It’s a powerful scene, an artistic masterpiece that continues to reveal itself as you stay with it. And this, in my experience, is just what the parable that inspired it does. So, friends, if you’re first-thought on hearing the reading was: Here we go again, I encourage you to seek to listen with ‘beginners’ mind and an open heart this morning.
In particular, I think we can learn a lot when we read it in its broader gospel context. In chapter 15 of Luke, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. The ‘journey to Jerusalem’ (the first ‘Lenten’ journey) is a particular feature in Luke’s gospel, so much so that it’s often called ‘the travel narrative’. Along the way, Jesus engages with three groups of people. First, there is a growing core of ‘disciples’ (Gk. mathētēs)— learners. Second, there’s the crowd, composed of people who are drawn to Jesus, and often impressed, but not yet committed— the Greek word ‘ochlos’ occurs 18 times in this section. And third, there are ‘the Pharisees and the scribes’— a group who, in Luke’s gospel, are wary, and constantly criticising Jesus for his words and deeds. Three different groups, and Luke always makes it clear which one Jesus is addressing. In chapter 15, it’s group 3 – the detractors:
Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’ So, he told them this parable…
Actually, he told them three parables, and they all had to do with being ‘lost’ — the parable of the lost sheep… the lost coin… and the lost son.
Now, when I read this third parable in context, I’m struck by its differences with the others. In the first two, the structure and language is clear and repeated:
Parable 1: A shepherd has a hundred sheep, loses one, goes searching, finds it, brings it home, calls friends and neighbours together and celebrates, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost’. So too, in heaven, says Jesus, there is more joy ‘over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.’
Parable 2: A woman has ten silver coins, loses one, goes searching, finds it, calls friends and neighbours together and celebrates, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin I lost’. ‘Just so,’ says Jesus, ‘there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.’ It’s slightly different, there’s no mention here of those who have ‘need no repentance’ here, but apart from that, and growing percentage of lostness (1/10 instead of 1/100) the pattern is similar.
And then, parable 3. A man has twosons, loses one (or 50%), well… yes and no… he does lose him, in the sense that the son is lost to him, but in the story, it’s more a case of letting him go. Remember, the son asked for his inheritance and the Father obliged, there’s no protest, no moralistic reprimanding, no sign of heartbreak or offense taken, he just divided the property and handed it over—almost as if he knows it has to happen, that this son must leave, must have this experience and reach rock bottom, must come to himself. As a parent or grandparent, it feels wrong (and painful) watching children or grandchildren wandering off and suffering the consequences, but in this story, the Father seems very obliging.
So, different to the other two stories. And the difference continues, for unlike the shepherd with the lost sheep or the woman who lost the coin, the father does not gosearching. No, he leaves him to it – it’s very hands off. For a time, he fades from the picture… as God does in many of our stories. But then, finally, when this son does turn back, well, its game on!
But while he was still far off, his father saw him [he must have been looking] and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.
The penitent waif begins his rehearsed confession, but the father stops him mid-sentence, he doesn’t need to hear this, he can tell that the boy has changed. He cuts in mid-sentence: ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one’, he yells to the servants, ‘put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet’ — kill the fatted calf and set the table for a feast! He is elated, absolutely overjoyed. There were no recriminations when his son left, and there are none now. He’s back, that’s what matters. You hear that, you Pharisees and scribes, looking down you’re your squeaky-clean noses grumbling about the company I keep. This ‘sinner’ is awake, he’s repented —experienced metanoia — has a new way of seeing and being in the world.
Now, on this point, all three parables align once more—there is rejoicing when lost ones are found, when wayward ones wake up and come ‘home’. It’s looking like a nice resolution, but this parable has one further complexity, a twist in the tail, and it’s all to do with the elder son. Remember him??!! The dutiful one, the upright one. It’s true, like them, he never wondered off ‘irresponsibly’, never openly abused his position or left his father in the lurch, never squandered his possessions or did any of the naughty things he accused his brother of doing. No, he’s the conscientious one. He’s kept the rules; kept his slate clean; always coloured neatly between the lines. Like a lot of elder children, he’s done the ‘right’ thing and he’s proud of it!! And, guess what…? He’s also smug, bitter, and estranged, just like these killjoy Pharisees and scribes.
He’s clearly estranged from his brother; he won’t even refer to him as a brother, let alone celebrate his return. He only ever speaks of him as ‘your son’. Can you hear his disdain, the accusation and sense of superiority, his refusal to be associated? That’s alienation.
And, despite his rectitude and obedience, he’s also estranged from his Father. ‘I’ve been working like a slave for you… and you’ve never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends’, he says, resentfully. A slave?? Is that how it is; it doesn’t sound liberated or peaceable. It’s not true, either. His father had given a great deal. Did you notice, back in verse 12 when the younger son asks for his share?? It says: ‘he divided the property between them’. In truth, he would’ve received much more than his brother because in those days the main share went to the first-born son.
And, all this alienation, I suggest, flows from the fact that he’s estranged from himself — unconscious of the pride, judgmental and resentment that is diminishing his life and relationships.
You know… as painful as it is to come a cropper or have your life fall apart, it can make it easier to come to truth of ourselves. When our lives remain tucked in and self-satisfied, it’s so easy to be deceived, to think we’re better than we are. When we fall — as the younger son did — we realise we’re not as good (or nice, or right) as we thought, and more open to receive what God (and others) have to offer. That’s a blessing, as the younger brother discovers so movingly. That’s what Rembrandt captures in his painting.
There’s no question that this parable, like the others, speaks of the God who rejoices when the lost are found. And, like the other two, it’s not how they get lost that matters, it’s that they get found (or in the case of humans – find themselves, come to their senses…) The striking thing is the way this third parable challenges our view of who’s really lost. Yes, the younger son was lost (and found), but what about his brother? He’d given an impressive moral performance, but was he really any less wilful, any less self-centred?
And, I wonder, did he eventually accept his Father’s invitation and join that party? Or stay outside, grumbling and alone? We don’t know, and I wonder if that’s Jesus’s way of throwing it back to us? What about you, what about me? Where are we standing? Are we standing cross armed and disapproving (like the elder brother) or have our wanderings and failings served to bring us to our senses, to fuller self-knowledge and a whole-hearted return and trust in God’s welcome? Have we, experienced the wondrous welcome and Father’s hand on our shoulder or are we still in need of it?
https://stninians.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/NM.Lk-15.1-3-11-32.pdf